


Drowning in His Sorrows

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:48:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another stand alone story.<br/>I may have done similar ones in the past but not quite like this. Hope you enjoy!</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning in His Sorrows

_Early evening – Porthos’ apartments_

“Any luck findin' the whelp?” Porthos watched as a seemingly frustrated Athos shook his head back at him. The older man sat at the solitary table in the room and put his feet up on it. Reading the disappointment in Athos’ face, Porthos already had his answer.

“Last anyone seen of d’Artagnan the lad went off with Anton, Benoit, Eric and Julien,” Athos snorted in disgust.

“What?” Porthos looked fit to burst. “Those four hooligins' always get up ta no good and hardly ever get called on the carpet for it,” he snarled. “Worse than us lot.”

Lifting his head up, Athos peered from underneath his hat that he still hadn’t removed. With a cold look, he spat. “Do not even think of comparing us to those men!”

“All commissions bought and paid for by their rich pere’s,” Porthos placed hands on his hips. “Ain’t very good at fightin’ either.”

“Tis to be hoped that Aramis has had better luck than either of us,” Athos stared at his boots for a long time, lost in thought as to where d’Artagnan could be. When he heard the door open and close, Athos twisted his head around and saw Aramis’ grim face staring back at him. “Do please tell me that look doesn’t mean the pup’s hurt?”

“Worse than that I’m afraid,” Aramis was angry at what he had discovered. “Our boy was seen going into The Falcon with four other Musketeers.”

“Yeah,” Porthos pointed at their leader, “Athos found out who they were.”

“And?” Aramis glanced at Athos curiously.

Holding up a finger one at a time, Athos counted off. “Eric… Julien… Anton… and Benoit.”

“Merde!” Aramis swore.

“Our feelings in a nutshell,” Athos retorted dryly.

“Ya know the kid’s been actin’ a might weird this entire week, if ya ask me,” Porthos looked thoughtfully at his two brothers who each nodded in turn. Having noticed the same thing apparently and yet none of them had acted on it.

“Maybe d’Artagnan has not been feeling well and didn’t want to tell us knowing what mother hens we can be,” Athos grimaced, remembering the last time the lad had been ill and how they all hovered over him until d’Artagnan shouted at them to leave him be. Their pup was just like Athos in that respect… not wanting the comfort of others.

Both Porthos and Athos noted the worried features on the marksman and feared something else was afoot besides d’Artagnan making friends in the wrong places.

“I only came back here to get you both to come back with me because,” Aramis paused before divulging the rest, “there is a riot going on at The Falcon.”

Porthos never saw a man move so fast as Athos was the first one out the door. “Guessin’ we better follow ‘em or there won’t be anythin’ left for us ta do.”

++++

_The Falcon_

Men were being tossed across the room as the fighting had grown fierce. The noise inside the tavern was deafening except to one oblivious individual who was too stinking drunk to care.

Giggling like a child, d’Artagnan swayed back and forth as he stood on top of the bar singing his heart out. It didn’t appear to bother most of the riffraff in the building since half of them were brawling anyway or just as drunk.

The inseparables barreled into the tavern, arriving to a comical sight. Half the patrons were fighting with one another and the other half were being led in song by d’Artagnan.

“Mon Dieu!” Athos closed his eyes briefly against the scene of chaos. “Get d’Artagnan down from there!” he ordered savagely to whichever brother wanted to take on the responsibility. “He’s making a spectacle of himself!”

Ducking from a punch thrown at him, Aramis snorted. “No different than when we are in our cups and do the same.”

“ _I… DO… NOT… CARE!_ ” Athos growled. “Just get him off of the bar, parbleur!”

Deciding to try his luck, Porthos had to scream above the din for the whelp to even hear him. Despite the situation, Porthos was amused that the lad had gotten so many of the patrons to join d'Artagnan in song. Mind you, everyone appeared pretty drunk so that helped some.

D'Artagnan was swinging out his arms to and fro as he drunkenly danced on top of the bar, cheered on by the loud roar of the rabble. Hiccuping, d'Artagnan shouted out to everyone who was still on their feet. "Want another chorus?"

The patrons, who were teetering just as much as d'Artagnan, encouraged the young man on shouting back for more.

"Whelp!" Porthos tried again. "Ya gotta come down from there before Athos gets a hold of ya!"

"I like it right," d'Artagnan hiccuped again, "where I am!" Giggling he swayed forward so far that he nearly fell off and into a group of men who were trying, and failing, to climb up on the bar too.

"You really are three sheets to the wind, boyo," Porthos shook his head fondly. "Now come on, whelp!" He was able to make it through the throng of patrons and reached the bar. Trying to grab hold of d'Artagnan's legs to pull him off the bar, he was shocked to see the pup pull out his main gauche and threaten him with it.

"Get away, Porthos!" d'Artagnan yelled. "Why don't you just take Aramis and Athos out of here and leave me alone!"

"Merde!" Aramis swore, pushing himself through the crowd, when he saw what d'Artagnan was doing. "Athos!" he hollered out for his brother and pointed towards the bar.

Punching one of the patrons in the face who dared lay a hand on him, Athos twisted his body around and was stunned to witness d'Artagnan waving his main gauche at Porthos. "Mon Dieu! What next?" Pushing and ducking his way toward the bar, Athos finally stood there looking up into d'Artagnan's glazed eyes. "What the deuce do you think you're accomplishing up there?"

Staying as far away as he could from his irate brother, d'Artagnan just grinned stupidly at Athos. "I'm enjoying myself!" he shouted down. "Something you should learn to do!"

"If I have to climb up after you," Athos stopped as he had to stand aside as a patron flew by him. "As I was starting to say," he glared at the pup, "if you make me get up there you'll be one sorry Musketeer!"

When Athos mentioned the word - _Musketeer_ , d'Artagnan stumbled slightly. "Not a Musketeer," he murmured sadly. His grip on his main gauche slipped, letting it fall harmlessly onto the top of the bar.

"Aramis where are the others d'Artagnan came in with?" Athos was ready to strangle those four for letting their youngest get to this state.

"That's the thing," Aramis huffed, "I've looked and none of them seem to be here."

"Figures," Porthos grumbled. "They probably started this ruckus and left the poor kid 'ere to fend for 'emself."

"The _kid_ seems to be doing better than most of the patrons," Aramis pointed out. "He's got the safest spot in the entire tavern."

"It won't be _safe_ for much longer when I get my hands on him." Athos could only ever remember one time in his life that he felt fury take him over so. That was when Anne had killed his baby brother. Deciding his thoughts would serve him better concentrating on getting the boy out of here, Athos strained his eyes across the room looking for the barkeep. Having been in this establishment many times before, Athos knew the barkeep well. Finally spotting him, Athos yelled out. "Stephane! Can't you get d'Artagnan down from there?"

"Monsieur, Athos," Stephane wrung his hands together, "do you not think I haven't tried?" he shrugged. "But the young man refuses and when I pressed him he threatened to gut me."

"I don't believe this." Athos' hand went to his weapon's belt and withdrew his pistol. Raising his arm up high he aimed for the ceiling and fired it.  That seemed to get everyone's attention as the shouting and fighting died down to quiet grumbles of protest.

"We are the king's Musketeers and this stops now or all of you will be spending a night in the Bastille!" Athos hollered at all the patrons. Pleased to see that something worked, Athos jerked his head at Aramis and Porthos. "Make sure they all get out of here," looking with disgust at d'Artagnan's sorry state he winced. "What I do for my brothers amazes even me."

Grateful for a stool Stephane provided, Athos climbed on it and hopped on top of the bar. But d'Artagnan proved to be slippery as an eel. Even though there was only so far the pup could travel, d'Artagnan still danced out of reach. "Your head's going to regret this in the morning," Athos warned, remembering the days when he used to get like that.

"I'm having fun," d'Artagnan stuck out his tongue at the older man. "Go away!"

The lad was near the end of the bar and since there was nowhere else for him to go, Athos closed in. He could see Porthos waiting to catch d'Artagnan if their youngest fell off. Well perhaps Athos could help that along. Getting close enough Athos lunged and pushed d'Artagnan backward.

Flailing his arms in the air, d'Artagnan couldn't hold onto anything and fell  into Porthos' waiting arms.

"Gotcha!" Porthos grinned. "You're in a whole pack of trouble, whelp." Then he noticed the tears running down the lad's face. Looking up into Athos' piercing glare, Porthos shook his head. "Kid's cryin'."

Frowning, Athos then realized something awful must be troubling their youngest. Getting down from the top of the bar, he glanced at Aramis. "Let us pray none of this gets back to Treville."

"I talked to Stephane and he told me that Eric, Julien, Anton and Benoit started the fight," Aramis tilted his head as he studied d'Artagnan's sorrowful features. "He also told me they kept plying d'Artagnan with drinks until he reached this state."

"First," Athos looked around the broken tables and chairs left behind from the fight, "I have to talk with Stephane." When he went over to the barkeep, who was trying to salvage what he could, Athos placed an arm on the other man's wrist. "The Musketeers who started this will turn over their wages to you to compensate for the mess," he bowed his head. "You have my word."

"Merci, Monsieur Athos," Stephane looked around and threw his hands up in the air. "I will have to be closed for several days to fix this place up."

"You'll have your money by tomorrow afternoon at the latest," Athos promised.

Facing his brothers, Athos brushed past all of them knowing Aramis and Porthos would follow behind. The latter carrying d'Artagnan who had conveniently passed out. 

++++

_Athos' apartments_

"I stripped him and put d'Artagnan in your spare nightshirt," Aramis sat down at the table and accepted the glass of wine Athos held out. "Merci."

"I 'ave never seen d'Art take more than a couple glasses of wine at any given time the whelp's been in our company," Porthos nursed his own drink, every now and then glancing back toward the extra bedroom where d'Artagnan rested.

"Pup's always said he didn't have a head for liquor and anything more than two drinks would make him tipsy," Athos frowned down into his brandy glass, swirling the amber liquid around.

"Somethin's up with the kid that's for sure," Porthos glanced at his brothers. "Maybe we can get it outta him tomorrow."

"D'Artagnan wouldn't have kept drinking like that unless something terrible was on his mind," Aramis offered. 

"We could dwell on this all night long," Athos quietly approached the bedroom where their pup was. Opening the door quietly he peered into the room. The lad was sprawled on top of the bed with his mouth partially opened but the tears on his cheeks were still visible to Athos' gaze. "What happened, d'Artagnan? And what did you mean when you said you weren't a Musketeer?" he whispered softly.

Rejoining his brothers, Athos looked at both men. "Do you two want to spend the night here so we can all tackle d'Artagnan in the morning?"

"Sounds like a right sound plan ta me," Porthos grinned. "But hey don't forget none about gettin' those four to pay up for the damages they caused tanight."

"After I sort out d'Artagnan,"Athos removed his doublet, "they're next on my agenda in the morn."

Grinning, Aramis threw his hat on the chair by the fireplace. "I got dibs on which end of the bed I get to sleep on."

"Mon Dieu!" Athos glowered at the marksman, "I thought one of you would share the bed d'Artagan's using."

"Not hardly," Aramis scoffed. "The child smells of drink so strongly that it turns my stomach."

"Porthos," Athos looked to him for help.

"I agree with Mis," Porthos could see that wasn't the answer Athos wanted to hear.

"All right," Athos gave up. "But I get the right side of the bed."

++++

_Following morning_

When the inseparables got up the next day, all of them finished their ablusions and were ready to find out why d'Artagnan had acted out the way he had. But when Athos went to check on the lad he found the room empty. "Merde!"

Coming up behind the older man, Porthos peered over his shoulder and stared into the empty room. "That ain't good."

"We really must have been out of it to not hear the boy leave," Aramis scratched his head.

"At least we know the whelp didn't go far," Porthos offered. "Kid's 'ead's gotta be killin' 'em this morning. So d'Art probably went ta the barracks."

"Never the less," Athos put on his weapon's belt, "he still has to deal with me."

"You have a nice long chat with d'Artagnan and then drag him to the canteen to join Porthos and myself for breakfast."

"Yeah, right," Porthos snorted. "That's if the kid can even stomach food after the night he's had."

"We can always order coffee for the lad," Aramis winked. Observing Athos take his leave of them, he said a quick prayer for d'Artagnan. Knowing Aramis would never want to be on the end of Athos' ire.

++++

_Courtyard_

"Athos!" Treville hollered down. "With me... now!"

Guessing his talk with the d'Artagnan would be delayed, Athos took the steps leading to the captain's office.

++++

_Captain Treville's office_

"Sir," Athos dipped his head. "Is there a problem?"

" _Is there a problem_ the man says," Treville snaps. "D'Artagnan came in here looking so sick I nearly sent him to Doctor Devereaux," he slammed his hands down on the desk. "On top of that he told me he wanted to resign his commission," he stared down his lieutenant noting that Athos was avoiding making eye contact. "Now you know something," he spit out. "What the deuce is it?"

So Athos explained to him all that happened the previous night. "And that's everything, sir."

Pacing back and forth, Treville grumbled to himself. Then he stopped, turned around and snapped his fingers. "Mon Dieu! Why didn't I think of that?"

Listening to his captain talking to himself, Athos hoped he would share whatever it was with him.

Facing his lieutenant again, Treville's face was forlorn with grief. "It was a year ago yesterday that d'Artagnan lost his pere."

"Oh mon Dieu! I completely forgot!" Athos felt badly realizing there truly was a good reason for their youngest's behavior. "Which would explain how easily d'Artagnan went off with those four so easily." He was disgusted with himself that he didn't remember what the day meant for the pup. "D'Artagnan's been with us nearly a year, just earning his commission," Athos turned somber blue eyes upon Treville. "Out of everyone... I should have known."

"The lad was drowning his sorrows in the only way available to him," Treville said. "I told d'Artagnan that I wouldn't accept his resignation and ordered him to take the rest of the day off."

"We should have been there for him," Athos damned himself for not picking up on what was troubling the lad this entire week. "He knew the anniversary was fast approaching and yet said nothing to any of us but still _I_ can't forgive myself for being remiss in this matter."

"Find him, Athos," Treville spoke softly. "Remind him that Alexandre would not want d'Artagnan to throw this all away."

Nodding to Treville, Athos raced out of the door.

++++

_Canteen_

"Eh, Mis," Porthos nodded toward the entrance, "there's Athos minus the whelp."

"Didn't you find him either?" Aramis had a bad feeling as soon as he looked into Athos' eyes. "What has happened?"

"It was the anniversary of Alexandre d'Artagnan's death yesterday." As soon as those words escaped his lips, Athos noted the horrified looks on his brother's faces. "Oui, tis what I thought," he said bitterly. "None of you remembered either."

"Where could the lad be?" Porthos should have been there for the whelp.

"He was in Treville's office earlier and wanted to resign," Athos hung his head down staring at his boots.

"Oh for the love of..."Aramis threw his napkin down and stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair over. As it crashed to the floor, Serge came rushing out thinking a fight was going on.

Looking at the chair, Serge glared at Aramis. "If you're going to start throwin' good furniture about," he shook a finger at the Musketeer, "I'll take the damages out of your wages. Don't see if I do," he huffed and went back into the kitchen.

"You'll get burnt toast for a week at breakfast now that ya crossed Serge, Mis," Porthos managed a weak laugh that died a quick death at the look Aramis threw him.

"I suggest we split up and the first one to find the pup will drag him back to my place," Athos hearing no word to the contrary nodded firmly.

"Guess that means I check the stables," Porthos' shoulder touched Aramis' as they walked out side by side.

"I'll check the garrison chapel," Aramis nearly chuckled at the strange look Porthos gave him. "Tis a good enough place to lay your grief bare."

"I'll stick ta the stables," Porthos mumbled.

Both Musketeers went their separate ways to find their younger brother. Which left Athos trying to decide where he should start looking. Figuring he certainly wasn't going to discover d'Artagnan hiding in Serge's kitchen, Athos followed on the heels of his brothers.

++++

Once outside the canteen, Athos stood silently trying to figure out where to start looking. His best bet for now would be the streets of Paris. The only thing in his favor for now was that all the taverns were closed until they opened in the afternoon.

About to head out, Athos paused thinking he had heard a noise which sounded close by. As the sound grew into a sob, he followed it to around to the back of the canteen. That's when he noticed a pair of familiar footwear. The boots were a gift from him to d'Artagnan for winning his commission against Labarge. He came upon the saddest sight Athos hoped never to see again. His pup's head dangled over an unopened bottle of wine d'Artagnan had balanced between his legs. Tears dripped from the lad's eyes as the boy tried to choke back his sobs.

Crouching down beside the younger man, Athos tipped d'Artagnan's face up to meet his own. "Tis early to start drinking, even for me," Athos quirked his lips. Something about the label on the wine bottle got his attention. Trust the lad to pilfer Athos' best wine from his cabinet before d'Artagnan sneaked out of the apartment. Tapping their young one on the nose, Athos waited for d'Artagnan to look back at him. For once he released the boy's chin the pup wouldn't make eye contact with him. "Drowning your sorrows for your pere in that bottle won't help. I should know."

That did get d'Artagnan's attention as he snapped his head up to glare at the older man. "You're a fine one to talk about that!" he spat.

"That's why I'm using myself as an example, d'Artagnan," Athos sighed and slid down the outside of the canteen wall to sit beside their youngest. "Tis only because of you that I no longer have a reason to drink myself into oblivion any longer." Noting the lad uttered not a word, Athos kept talking. "Captain Treville told me what anniversary yesterday was for you and I share your sorrow over it. As do Porthos and Aramis. We all beg your forgiveness in not remembering the day."

"Doesn't matter," d'Artgnan mumbled. "Won't bring him back."

"True," Athos agreed but placed a hand on the wine bottle and gently tugged it from d'Artagnan's death grip, "but neither will this." He pretended to examine the bottle closely. "Fine vintage," he slid a sideways glance at the pup, "looks familiar." Still no response again. Setting it aside Athos drew his knees up to his chest and folded his arms around them, mirroring d'Artagnan's position exactly.

"But there had to be more to it than just sorrow over your pere," Athos hoped the lad would open up to him. "Tell me what brought last night about?" 

"Since coming to Paris things have happened so fast to me," d'Artagnan said. "My papa dying in my arms with your name on his lips set me off to a destiny I never dreamed of," he rubbed his forehead as the headache he had woken up with threatened to make a reappearance. "After finding out who you were, I charged into the garrison set to kill you or be killed by you," d'Artagnan quietly banged his head against the back wall, which just aggravated his blossoming headache all the more. "Then the rush was on to prove your innocence," a tentative smile touched d'Artagnan's lips. "From that point on it's been one mission after another leading up to my fight with Labarge."

"In other words you really haven't had much time to properly grieve until it hit you yesterday," Athos spoke softly as he could tell d'Artagnans was still feeling the lingering effects from last night. Perhaps he should have the lad dunk his head in a bucket of cold water. It always worked wonders for himself. "Still, what did you mean about not being a Musketeer?"

"Papa would have been so disappointed in me for not going back to the farm," d'Artagnan murmured sadly. "It was supposed to have been my legacy," he laughed bitterly. "Now tis a pile of ashes," d'Artagnan stared off into the distance, not really seeing anything but his papa in his arms surrounded by blood. "Alexandre d'Artagnan never intended for his only child to go around Paris killing people for the good of France."

Thinking it more prudent to not touch upon that subject, Athos instead spoke on a somewhat uncomfortable topic.

"I never believed in destiny but where you are concerned I have changed my mind."

Looking at his mentor with bloodshot eyes, d'Artagnan didn't understand what Athos meant. " _Destiny_ ," he scoffed. "It was destiny to lose my only family in the way that I had?"

"If blame is to be had then I feel partially responsible," Athos reluctantly admitted.

"What the deuce do you mean by that?" d'Artagnan couldn't believe what he was hearing. How was Athos responsible for his papa's death.

"Milady, as we all know by now, was an agent for the cardinal," Athos pointed out.

"And so?"

"I never mentioned this to you or to Aramis and Porthos," Athos closed his eyes. This was hurting him to say this but it had to be done. "We know how Richelieu had been trying to discredit the Musketeers in King Louis' eyes and what better way than to set up one of His Majesty's soldiers."

"Still what has that got to do with you," d'Artagnan was confused as to where this was going.

"Anne had the cardinal's ear and whispered my name into it," Athos stared hard into the pup's eyes. "Do you understand now?"

Realizing what Athos meant, d'Artagnan felt sick to his soul. "Then if not for me you truly would have ended your days in front of that firing squad."

"Richlieu knew that after his attempt failed he couldn't try the same trick twice," Athos felt like uncorking the bottle and drinking it himself now. "Unfortunately during his ruse you and your pere got caught up in it."

"If only I hadn't urged papa to stop at that inn," d'Artagnan's teared up again, "he'd still be alive."

"Then you would have come to Paris and petitioned the king for an audience like your pere planned," Athos shrugged. "Whether the venture would have been successful or not, you both would have found yourselves back in Gascony."

"And you and I would never have met," d'Artagnan nodded slowly, understanding what Athos now meant about destiny.

"Don't ever tell Aramis I said this," Athos' blue eyes twinkled, "but I believe a higher power put you just where you were supposed to be that day."

"Afraid to let Aramis think he's converting you," d'Artagnan quipped, feeling more like his old self.

"Mmmmm," Athos snuff of laughter brought an answering smile to the lad's lips, "something like that."

"I guess I better make my apologies to everyone," d'Artagnan slowly stood back up and watched Athos do the same. "From Stephane down to Porthos," he looked sick again. "Mon Dieu! I can't believe I pulled my main gauche on him," d'Artagnan covered his eyes with a shaky hand. "What must he think of me?" Feeling Athos grip the back of his neck gently, d'Artagnan shuddered.

"We all have our own devils to deal with from time to time," Athos told him. "Your brothers recognized a soul in torment."

"How could they have known that," d'Artagnan scoffed, feeling Athos was just trying to make him feel better.

"The pain in your eyes for one thing," Athos looked away from the pup. "Tis like looking in a mirror at times."

"You and I are alike more than you know," d'Artagnan whispered, repeating back Athos' words to him from before.

Not wanting to go back to that time, Athos only wanted to look toward the future and that included d'Artagnan staying a Musketeer. "You do remember that Captain Treville denied your resignation?"

Wincing, d'Artagnan dared a peek at Athos' smirking back at him. "I vaguely believe I said something about resigning before I slammed out of his office."

"Mmmmm," Athos hummed softly.

"I didn't really mean it," d'Artagnan placed a hand on Athos' arm, for he had other weighty things on his mind. "Ummmm, how much do I owe in damages to Stephane's place?"

"Nothing," Athos grinned. "I am going to find Anton, Benoit, Eric and Julien," his grin dropping, "the misfits who got you into such a sorry state and take it from their pockets."

"I never should have gone off with them but I was feeling so down and I didn't want you three to see me thus," d'Artaganan noted the fierce scowl covering his mentor's features.

"D'Artagnan, remember this and remember it well," Athos placed a hand on each of the lad's arms and shook the youngster to gain his attention. "Aramis, Porthos and I, even Treville to a certain extent, are your family now," he rolled his eyes. "We share in everything. The good times and the bad," he chuckled. "Especially the bad. Otherwise we'd all end up in a tavern drunk as a skunk and singing badly."

"Ooooooh," d'Artagnan covered his face with his hands again, "was I really that awful?"

Snorting, Athos clapped the pup on the back. "Tis sad to say but the singing world will not miss you. Though their loss is the Musketeer's gain."

Choking back laughter, d'Artagnan could only be grateful for having a brother such as this man on his side. As he and Athos turned the corner, heading away from the canteen, they ran into Aramis and Porthos. His two brothers looked so relieved that d'Artagnan felt guilty all over again for causing so much trouble for everyone.

"There he is!" Porthos shouted. "We've scoured the entire garrison lookin' for ya, whelp!"

"I even checked the chapel," Aramis gave the lad a cool look. Crossing his arms he waited for d'Artagnan to give him a good reason for worrying them so.

"Ummmm," d'Artagnan licked his dry lips, "Apologies to both of you. But if you don't mind I better see the captain and when I come back will explain all to both of you."

Upset, but happy their youngest was safe, Aramis and Porthos turned concerned faces toward Athos. Their gazes never missed the wine bottled clutched in the older man's hands.

"D'Artagnan take that from your place?" Porthos ran a hand down the back of his neck.

"I stopped him from making a few bad decisions," Athos exchanged glances with Aramis.

"We've all been there, mon ami," Aramis said. "Why should d'Artagnan be any different, eh?"

"I for one ain't lettin' that kid near those four shitheads anytime soon," Porthos growled.

"An apt description, mon frere," Aramis laughed.

"The lad's expecting some sort of punishment from us, I'm afraid," Athos told his brothers. "But I believe d'Artagnan's punished himself more than we ever could," he shrugged. "Besides we're guilty of not living up to our promise of being his family."

"Yeah," Porthos grunted. "Family should know when one of 'em's hurtin' like the whelp was."

"I agree," Aramis watched as d'Artagnan came back out of Treville's office and raced down the steps. "If anyone's interested I'm free for the day," Aramis looked at his brothers.

"Me too," Porthos rubbed his hands together.

"Gentlemen," Athos knew they were all on the same page, "I'd say today we spend it smothering d'Artagnan in brotherly love. What say you?"

Holding out their hands palm down, each of them placed one on top of the other. "All for d'Artagnan!"

The End


End file.
